Devil His Due
by Kouri Arashi
Summary: Written for the kink meme! "Bad guys kidnap Tony and Coulson. They want Coulson's inside SHIELD information, and Tony's brainpower at their disposal. Unfortunately, Tony and Coulson aren't too inclined to help them. Even more unfortunately, the bad guys have zero problem coercing them." Coulson helps keep Tony sane. Tony helps keep Coulson alive.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Sometimes Tony envied the other Avengers, who weren't dependent on any sort of devices or suits or gadgets. As awesome as he was – and he was fully aware of exactly how awesome – without his Iron Man suit, he was vulnerable. Of course, he carried it with him all of the time, in some fashion or another, but sometimes there just wasn't time to get into it.

He reflected all this as he stared at the ceiling above him: plain concrete, just as the walls and the floor were. There were only two exceptions to the monotony: a steel door and a window, about three inches square. He had thought about getting up to look through the window, but he hadn't quite managed to get all his limbs in order yet. He had a throbbing headache, and his legs felt like jelly.

Yes, he was very sure that Steve or Thor would never find themselves in this sort of position.

While he studied the ceiling, he tried to put together the events of the previous evening. He had been at a charity dinner, hosted by Stark Industries, about green energy. The food had been good, the liquor plentiful, the ladies pretty. He had been enjoying himself, but around eleven PM, he had gotten a text saying he was needed back at SHIELD HQ, urgently. Since he didn't want everyone to realize he was leaving early, he had slid out a side door. And then –

Then what? That was the last thing he remembered. From the headache, either someone had walloped him one, or he had been drugged. He felt his skull for lumps or bruises. Nothing. Drugs, then.

After a few more minutes, he managed to drag himself to his feet and do a further study of his surroundings. His cell was about six feet squared. There was absolutely nothing in it besides a urinal on one wall. He made a face at it, but was secretly glad his captors were allowing him at least that dignity. A toilet would have been better, but he would take what he could get. There was no mattress, and his side ached from where he had been unconscious on the floor.

He went over to the window and looked through. The room on the other side was identical to the one he was in now, with one difference: Agent Phil Coulson was sitting on the floor, his legs folded underneath himself Indian-style, hands on his knees. It looked like he was meditating. Tony rapped on the glass. He could see the wires criss-crossing inside it. Reinforced. He wouldn't be able to break it with his bare hands, and even if he could, all it would gain him was entrance to an identical cell.

Coulson looked up at the noise, saw Tony's face in the window, and stood. "You're up, then?" The words were muffled by the glass, but audible. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, hell of a headache, Christ," Tony said. Had Coulson been with him the night before? He didn't remember seeing him, but then again the SHIELD agent was very good at blending in with a crowd and not being noticed. He had probably been there as security. "You?"

"Fine. Any ideas about where we are?"

Tony gave the cell another look, as if he might have missed something, but was forced to shake his head. "I don't remember jack shit about what happened last night. We haven't been out that long, though," he added, rubbing the stubble that had formed around his goatee. "So what do you think's going on here?"

"Looks to me like we've been kidnapped," Coulson said.

Tony gave the window a look and muttered, "You don't say!"

Before Coulson could reply, there was a noise outside the door. The rattle of keys, and then the sound of a code being punched into a keypad. The door to Tony's cell swung open. He gauged the opening quickly, but it was blocked by two men, one of whom waited in the door while the other entered the cell. He was tall, with bronze skin and black hair that was tied back into a neat ponytail, and was dressed in a business suit. What drew Tony's attention was the ring he wore on his right index finger, one with a black stone set in it, probably onyx.

"You must be ring number two," he said to the man. "I met ring number one in Afghanistan a few years ago. I ran, well, rings around him."

"Yes, I was acquainted with Raza," the man said, with a nod. "As you can see from your surroundings, I do not plan to be anywhere near as foolish as he was. Obviously, having you build weapons is doomed for disaster. Therefore, I will settle for having you design them. I am particularly interested in the weapon you used against Ivan Vanko at the Expo last year."

"Jesus," Tony muttered. He didn't think anyone had even _seen _that fight. Somebody obviously had. He raised his voice. "Yeah, that's great and all, but you can't seriously think that it's gonna work."

The man gestured, and accepted a briefcase from the guard still standing in the door. He opened it and set down a pad of paper and a pencil. "Here are your tools," he said. "With them, you will give me the specifications for that weapon. Once you have done that, we will consider whether to release you or not. There will be time for construction and testing, of course."

"I need a computer," Tony said.

"You didn't have a computer in Afghanistan."

"Well, yeah, actually, I did," Tony said, and the man simply shrugged. "Okay, come on, at least give me a freakin' calculator, not that I need one because I'm just that much of a genius, but show me a little mercy here, guys."

"I do not believe that is necessary," the man said. "I do not intend to make the same mistakes that my predecessor made. Paper and pencil is all you will have access to. Your cell will be monitored by people who speak English – not Hungarian, not Kurdish, but English – twenty-four hours a day. Do not misunderstand me; we will take care of you. You will be adequately fed. Of course, you will forgive the need for plastic utensils. Compliance will bring rewards. Lack of it will bring punishment."

"Oh yeah?" Tony asked, clearly unimpressed. "You can't go breaking my bones if you want me to design things for you."

"Of course not," the man said smoothly, and then tilted his head to the right. "Look through the window."

Almost unwillingly, Tony walked over to see Coulson having been hauled to his feet. He was flanked by three men, one of whom was holding what looked like a Taser.

"You did not think it was an accident that he was brought along with you, surely," the man said. "As punishing you would diminish your helpfulness, he will be the one who suffers for any . . . unreasonable behavior you may indulge in. Is that clear?"

Tony laughed. "Hey, you can threaten all you want, but I don't even like that guy."

The man gave him a curious look, and smiled. "Did you know, Tony Stark . . . you are not a very good liar."

He turned and left the room without another word.

* * *

The silence had gone on for a very long time.

Tony was doodling. He couldn't help it. He always had to have something to do, something to think about. Stillness didn't suit him, was impossible. What had started out as a simple frowny face was now an epic doodle of Nick Fury playing 'the floor is lava'. Tony wasn't even really aware of what he was drawing. His brain whirred away while his hands acted of their own accord.

After a while, Coulson said, conversationally, "Do you play chess?"

"Uh," Tony said, "I know how. That type of game has never been my style. And it's not like we have a chess board."

"Well, no," Coulson said, "but you could keep track of the moves on your paper. I just thought it might help keep us occupied."

Tony stared down at the sheet of paper and the doodle. He remembered playing backgammon with Yinsen. The doctor had beaten him almost every time. Yinsen had been smart. Smarter than Tony had given him credit for. He owed his life to him, after all. After his encounter with the 'walking death'. The weapon he had built.

"Mr. Stark?" Coulson asked. "Are you okay in there?"

Tony realized abruptly that his hand was curled tightly over the arc reactor in his chest. He cleared his throat hastily and said, "Oh, yeah, I'm just peachy. You know. Chillin'. Not much of a chess player. If we could pass the paper back and forth I'd say tic-tac-toe, that's about where my genius level feels like it's at, if you know what I'm saying."

"Hm. The window is a problem," Coulson agreed, as if the fact that it hindered their ability to play tic-tac-toe was currently their biggest problem. "I suppose we could always play some sort of verbal game. Twenty questions or some such. Or Botticelli. I've always been particularly partial to Botticelli."

"How can you be so calm?" Tony burst out suddenly. "I mean, seriously. I've wondered on occasion if you're a robot, but actually I think I've created robots with more emotions than you."

There was a pause. Then Coulson said, "It doesn't do any good to get upset. Yes, I'm frightened. Of course I am. But letting that interfere with the way I think won't help. Right now, there doesn't appear to be anything we can do. It's possible one of us could get out the next time the door opens, but frankly it's unlikely, and even if we did, the chances that we could escape from the facility are remote. It's safer to wait here until SHIELD finds us."

"Yeah," Tony muttered. He thought again of Yinsen. _I'm sure they're looking for you . . . but they will never find you. _

"They won't cause either of us permanent damage," Coulson continued, "at least, not for a while. Eventually they may decide I'm not suitably motivating and move on to a different target for leverage. But that won't happen right away. So all we have to do is survive long enough to give Director Fury and the other Avengers the chance to figure out where we've gone."

"Yeah," Tony repeated. He suddenly felt tired. "Sorry, you know, sorry I called you a robot."

"It's all right," Coulson said. "You hold robots in very high regard. Maybe I should take it as a compliment."

"Yeah, sure, take it that way," Tony said, thinking that if he could convince whoever was listening that he really didn't like Coulson, maybe that would help. They would torture him anyway, but it might put a dent in their zeal. "Whatever you want. So. Botticelli? How does that work again, something about guessing who painted something I probably own the original of?"

"Your art is more modern than that. But you've got the idea."

They played three rounds. Tony guessed Isaac Asimov, Coulson guessed Nikola Tesla, and then stumped Tony for nearly an hour before he finally got Shel Silverstein. All the while Tony doodled, filling sheet after sheet with the Avengers fighting different mythical monsters.

"Hey," he finally said. "What do you think I should do?"

"You mean, should you give them the weapon designs?" Coulson asked.

"Yeah."

"What they ask, is it even possible?"

"You mean, could I reproduce the blueprints from memory? Probably, yeah." Tony thought he could probably put in a couple glitches here and there that would cause them to blow themselves up, but there was no way he was saying that out loud. Not with those people listening. Besides, he was sure that Ring Two wouldn't attend the actual testing. Deliberately screwing up would only give them an excuse to hurt Coulson. "But you know that once I did that, they'll just demand something else."

"Of course," Coulson said. He was quiet for a minute. "Mr. Stark, I can't tell you what to do. Understand that I've had training on how to deal with this sort of situation, but nothing really prepares you for it. I would understand one hundred percent and support you if you chose not to give them anything. But I would also understand if you feel that's something that you can't handle. That's a choice you're going to have to make for yourself. It's not one I can make for you."

"Thanks," Tony said. "That makes me feel _much_ better."

* * *

Pepper's tapping foot was a sight feared to all Stark Industries employees. Whenever her foot started tapping like that, it meant something was not according to plan. It usually meant that Tony was late, drunk, recalcitrant, or otherwise driving her insane. So it was that morning, as her foot tapped away at the marble floor while she waited for Tony to put in an appearance at the board meeting.

Of course, missing them was fairly common for him, so she held the meeting as if nothing was wrong. Afterwards, she took the elevator up to the penthouse suite. "Jarvis, do you know where Tony's at?" she asked, as the elevator doors slid closed behind her. "I texted him but he didn't reply."

"I'm sorry, Miss Potts," Jarvis said, "but I haven't seen Mr. Stark in over twenty-four hours."

"He didn't come home last night after the fundraiser?" In the past, Pepper would have merely rolled her eyes and perhaps muttered 'typical'. If Tony had gone to a hotel with some bimbo, she was going to have sharp words with him. It didn't seem like him of late, though. Ever since they had gotten serious, he had kept his wandering to his eyes and occasionally hands.

"No. Would you like me to contact him?"

"If you could, please." Pepper sighed and went into the kitchen, where Dummy brought her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. It had taken Tony eight hours to train the robot how to use the juicer, all of which had been liberally filled with affectionate abuse. Pepper gave Dummy an absent pat on the head and sipped her juice while she reviewed the day's schedule.

"Mr. Stark is not answering my calls," Jarvis said a few minutes later.

Pepper looked up and frowned. "Well, try the GPS locator in his phone."

"I'm afraid I already did," Jarvis said, "and it seems to be offline."

Pepper set down her juice with a thump. "Is it just that his phone off?"

"No, I'm able to turn it on remotely, so if that were the case I would know. I can also supply it with power if the battery runs low, and that isn't the problem either. As far as I can tell, his phone must have been dismantled, in order to produce such a response."

After taking a deep breath, Pepper said, "Call Director Fury. I need to see him as soon as possible."

* * *

Steve gave Pepper a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he walked into the conference room. It was true that he and Tony didn't always see eye-to-eye, but he respected the other man, and he liked Pepper. He had been in the gym when he got the call, and was still wearing a loose T-shirt and sweat pants. Bruce was already sitting at the table, fiddling with his smartphone and looking uncomfortable. Natasha was sipping a coffee. Steve didn't see Clint, but that didn't mean he wasn't there. A quick glance up at the ledge that Tony had built around the room confirmed that he was.

That meant he was the last one there, since nobody had a way to get in touch with Thor when he wasn't on Earth. Fury was standing at the head of the table, looking the same as he always did. "Sorry for holding things up," Steve said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

"I just got here myself," Bruce said, hitting a button on his phone and tucking it away.

Steve realized that they weren't actually all there. Coulson was such a ubiquitous presence that he almost didn't see him anymore, but there was no way that he would miss a meeting of such importance. "Where's Agent Coulson?"

"He didn't respond to my text," Fury said brusquely. The words hit the room like a bomb, and for a moment, everyone simply stared at him. Tony could have just been playing a prank, distracted by something fast or shiny, off the grid for his own reasons. But Coulson? That was something else again. None of the people present could imagine a world in which the words 'he didn't respond to my text' could refer to Coulson if a disaster hadn't struck.

"When was the last time either of them were seen?" Natasha asked.

"Tony was at that fundraiser last night," Pepper said. "I spoke to him not long before he left. A lot of people saw him there, but nobody saw him leave. He sneaks out early a lot of the time, so that's not too surprising. But he never made it home afterwards. Jarvis confirmed that."

"Coulson was security at the fundraiser, wasn't he?" Clint asked from the ledge, his feet dangling over it. Fury glanced up and nodded confirmation. "Yeah, I saw him a couple of times, just moving around the crowd. You know how he is, your eyes skip right over him if you're not looking for him. There wasn't any sort of fuss, though. Maybe he saw Tony leave and decided to make sure that he made it to his car."

"Good theory," Steve said. "Security footage?"

"I'll pull it up." Pepper began tapping at her phone with a stylus. The fundraiser had been hosted in a building owned by Stark Industries, so it was easy to get through the layers of clearance and pulled up the cameras around the garage. It took her several minutes to find one that had view of Tony's car, and then she rewound to when he had arrived. Setting it to run on high speed, it took another five minutes to get all through the night, until the sun began to rise. Nobody had approached the car.

"So if something happened, it was inside the building," Natasha said. "Any way to figure out which way Tony would have left?"

Pepper rubbed a hand over her eyes and pulled up the building's schematics. "He would have taken the stairs, because reporters camp out by the elevators. There's a side door into the garage from the north stairwell here . . ." She hummed under her breath for a few moments until she got to the camera that focused on that door. It pulled up an image of an empty landing, and she sighed. "This isn't a high-security building," she said. "There isn't a camera on each floor. If this one didn't see him, we have no way of knowing what happened."

The footage continued to run in the background while Steve said, "Tony's irresponsible enough to just wander off, but I can't imagine he would have done it without letting you know, Pepper. He cares about you. With Agent Coulson missing as well, I think it's safe to assume that there's a third party involved. Out of all of us, Tony is the one who's made the most enemies."

"I presume you've attempted to locate Coulson's phone?" Natasha asked. Fury nodded. "So these people are savvy enough to know that just turning the phone off isn't good enough. They were clearly well-prepared. They knew where the cameras are and how to avoid them. They knew Tony's habits, knew he would avoid the elevator, so they've probably had surveillance on him for a while. But why take Coulson, too? That doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe he got in the way," Bruce suggested.

"Why not just kill him, then?" Natasha asked.

"If they didn't want to leave any evidence . . ."

"A missing billionaire playboy isn't evidence enough?" Natasha asked.

"She's right," Clint said. "They must have wanted Coulson specifically for something. We don't even know that he followed Tony to the garage. They could have taken him at some other point."

"Is it really relevant?" Bruce asked.

Natasha shrugged. "When you don't have any evidence to look at, you look at motive. That's all we've got to work with right now, if we want to figure out who these people are."

Fury nodded. "I'll start the SHIELD techs scrubbing the video, looking for anyone out of place, any inconsistencies. Miss Potts, I want you to sit down with Agent Romanov and Agent Barton and go through all the people Stark's pissed off in the last couple of years. That ought to take you a few days, but make it as quick as you can. We'll run a general search on anyone that we think could have been responsible. Dr. Banner . . . do some sort of science thing that'll help figure that out. Run an algorithm or something."

"What about me, sir?" Steve asked, seeing Bruce trying not to laugh and hoping Fury wouldn't notice.

"I want you to go to Agent Coulson's place. See if you think he's been there in the past twenty-four hours, if you notice anything unusual. Stark could have been kidnapped by anyone, so Coulson is the one we may need to focus on. Hill has a spare key for his apartment, I think."

Steve nodded. "I'm on it."

"Good. Clock's ticking, people," Fury said. "Get to work."


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm kind of a slow writer . . . sorry! But I do my best to keep up on it. Thanks for all the fantastic comments! _

Chapter Two

"Quite a masterpiece," Ring Two said, looking down at the drawing that Tony had done. It had taken him most of the night in fits and starts. Currently he was working on a section in which Agent Hill had grown horns and fangs, and was doing battle with a hippogriff. Tony wasn't sure who the good guy was in that scenario, but then again, his drawings were hardly professional quality.

"I know, right?" Tony said, with a manic grin. "I'm gonna need some more paper. Also, coffee. I suppose it'd be too much to ask for a latte, but c'mon, I've gotta have my caffeine. I can't be a lightning fast computation machine without it."

"And what a pity that would be," Ring Two agreed. He turned slightly to the door. "Paper for our esteemed Mr. Stark, please."

One of the men left the room. Tony continued to spin the pencil between his fingers, with that same bright smile. "I didn't hear an order for my coffee," he said.

"No, you did not," his captor agreed. He turned to one of the other men and said, "Prepare Agent Coulson."

Tony noted with some interest that they knew Coulson's name. That meant he hadn't been snatched at random as one of the agents at the fundraiser, but on purpose. It made sense. These men had obviously planned meticulously, and they would have wanted to get proper leverage. But why Coulson? Why not Pepper? She seemed the obvious choice.

He forced himself to stay sitting on the floor, looking unconcerned, not even glancing towards the window into Coulson's cell. The less he knew about what was going on in there, the happier he would be. He waited while another one of the men brought him the paper he had requested, and put it on the floor in front of him. "Hey, Coulson," he shouted, "what mythical creature would you like to do battle with today?"

"How about a Gorgon?" Coulson called back.

"Ooh, an excellent choice," Tony said, smirking and starting to sketch. Maybe he could Steve to render some of these hilarious scenarios later with actual skill, presuming he ever saw the other man again.

His captor smiled at him. He did not seem concerned at all about Tony's lack of cooperation. "No rush," he said, leaning against the wall. "Take your time. I want you to be focused when you reproduce those blueprints."

From the other room, Tony heard the buzz of electricity. He did his best to ignore it, hoping that Coulson was the manly type who wouldn't make any noise.

_He's building your Jericho._

_Tell me the truth._

_He's building your Jericho! _

Coulson said something quite different. In a level voice, as if reciting a presentation, he said, "We, the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union – "

"A patriot," Ring Two said, with a quirk of his lips. "How amusing."

" – establish justice, insure domestic tranquility – "

_He's building your Jericho! _

Tony realized that his sketch was turning into something quite different from what he had intended. Without instruction, his hands had started drawing the cavern in Afghanistan. And Yinsen. With a coal in his mouth. His eyes were shooting jets of flame. Tony crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it across the room.

"Look," Ring Two said, gesturing to the window.

"No, thanks," Tony replied.

"If you do not look," his captor said, "I will make you."

Reluctantly, Tony got to his feet and walked over to the window. Coulson had been strapped onto what looked like a stretcher that had been wheeled into the room. They had taken his shirt and attached electrodes to several places on his chest and abdomen. A piece of machinery stood next to the man inside, whose face was half-covered by a pair of safety goggles.

"All legislative powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress – "

At a nod from Ring Two, the man standing next to Coulson flipped a switch. His body twitched and a slight grunt interrupted his speech, but afterwards, he continued speaking as if nothing had happened.

"How much voltage can a human body survive?" Ring Two asked Tony. "You should know, being a scientist and all. Perhaps you should tell us. I'd hate to make a mistake."

"Look, uh, look," Tony said, rubbing a hand over his face, "I think you're kind of underestimating how much concentration I need available to design a weapon. I can't just puke it out onto a sheet of paper. One tiny mistake in the math and you're gonna blow yourself up. A laser weapon needs very precise focus, and – "

"Another fifty volts," Ring Two instructed his men.

"No no no no no," Tony said. "Just, just give me a minute, give me a minute."

"No person shall be a representative who shall not have attained to the age of twenty-five years," Coulson continued, but his voice was definitely strained.

"That, that's really redundant, is 'shall' really the word they wanted there?" Tony stammered, trying to concentrate on what he was saying. "Wouldn't 'who hasn't attained' be a better way to, okay, I'm kind of getting sidetracked here. Lasers. Okay, uh." He started rapidly sketching. "The key is in the cooling system, right? Because otherwise you're gonna set shit on fire, and hey, sometimes you wanna do that, but this isn't one of those times."

He was peripherally aware of his captor holding up a hand to stop what was going on in the other room. Coulson continued to recite the constitution, apparently not wanting to lose his place. Tony jotted down notes feverishly for about fifteen minutes before he found himself unable to remember one of the formulas he had used. He tugged on his hair, trying to remember, muttering to himself.

"That's enough for now," Ring Two decided. He gave Tony an icy smile and said, "We wouldn't want to overstress you and cause you to make a mistake." He turned to leave. "Water for the agent," he instructed his men, "and a meal for Mr. Stark, here."

They left, locking the cell behind them. Tony leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, listening to the sounds of the men in the other room get Coulson off the stretcher. Once the room had gone quiet, he managed to struggle to his feet and look through the window. Coulson was sitting down, leaning against the wall, one hand rubbing a nasty burn mark on his chest.

"Aren't, aren't you supposed to just give them your name, rank, and serial number?" Tony asked, slumping back to the floor.

Coulson glanced up, and a slight smile twitched at the corner of his mouth despite everything. "Repeating the same information over and over again isn't a good way to keep your mind focused," he said. "It's easier to distract yourself from pain with something more intellectually complex."

"That sounds great." Tony rested his head on his knees. "The constitution, huh? Couldn't you go for something more fun, like the Jabberwock?"

"I like the constitution," Coulson said.

"Of course you do."

They sat in silence for a while.

"So, uh, how are you feeling?" Tony asked.

"Oh, you know," Coulson said. "Been better."

"I'm sorry," Tony said. "I'm not even sure what I drew for them. I sort of had a freak out."

"Understandable," Coulson said, closing his eyes.

The doors opened again. A man went into Coulson's cell and gave him a plastic cup of water, which Coulson accepted with a nod of thanks. Another came into Tony's room, handing him a paper plate that had a sandwich on it. Tony lifted a slice of bread to peek inside and found turkey and mayonnaise, with a limp piece of lettuce. He also received a plastic cup of water. Once the meal was delivered, he stood with his arms folded, clearly intending to watch Tony eat.

"C'mon now, shouldn't Coulson get a sandwich, too?" Tony asked. The man said nothing. "He's the one who got tortured. A sandwich seems like it's the least you could do."

"It's fine, Tony," Coulson said, sipping his water to make it last.

"Okay, it is a world of 'not fine at all'," Tony said, "and I'm not going to draw one more laser array until you get something to eat. And I'm not gonna eat this shit, either." He threw the sandwich at the man in the doorway. "C'mon. There isn't even tomato on there. What do you guys think I'm worth?"

Still saying nothing, the man picked up the pieces of the sandwich, took the plate and the now empty cup, and left the room.

"You shouldn't have done that," Coulson said.

"You're right," Tony said. "I should have smeared the mayo all over his face."

Coulson couldn't help but chuckle. "That would have been entertaining." He lay down on his back, winced as the burns pulled taut, and rolled onto his side. "I'm going to get a little rest, if you don't mind."

"Mind, why the hell would I mind, you're the one being – you know what, you go ahead and rest. I'll just stay in here and come up with a way to end world hunger or something. Enjoy."

* * *

Steve felt a little apprehensive as he let himself into Coulson's apartment. He felt like he was prying. "Agent Coulson?" he called out, just in case the agent was actually laid up with the flu and not answering his phone. "Hello, anybody home?"

As he had expected, only silence greeted this question. He closed the door after himself and began to poke around the apartment. It was tidy without being obsessively neat, just how he would have expected Coulson's apartment to look. Lived in, with a magazine tossed on the coffee table and the remote for the television sitting on the arm of the sofa, two dishes in the sink, rinsed but not washed.

The bed was made, with the corners tucked in somewhat haphazardly, as if whoever was doing it had never quite gotten the hang of getting them tucked in properly but felt he had to make an effort. Steve poked his head in the bathroom and saw that the towel hanging by the shower was dry. Coulson definitely had not been home since leaving the fundraiser the previous night.

Other than that, he didn't see anything he could have considered a clue. He wasn't even sure what to look for, and couldn't help but think of this errand as if Fury was just giving him something to do, keeping him busy.

A flicker of motion caught his eye in the door to the bedroom, and he was immediately in fighting position, only to find himself facing nothing more threatening than a curious tabby cat. She sauntered out of the bedroom and gave him a questioning 'mew'.

"Aww, I bet you're hungry," Steve said, kneeling down next to the feline. He held out a hand for her to sniff, which she did, and then scratched her behind the ears. She was wearing a collar, so he glanced at the tags. "Aren't you . . . Catherine the Great?" He shook his head slightly. It figured that Coulson would give his cat a silly name. He was so serious everywhere, but underneath it he obviously had a keen sense of humor.

Discovering the cans of cat food in the pantry was a cinch, but he couldn't find a can opener anywhere. He spotted some electronic device and eyed it suspiciously. It had a place that looked like a can would fit in, so he tried to wedge it inside. Immediately, the machine made a loud, angry, buzzing noise. Startled, Steve dropped the can on the counter.

"Whatever happened to using your own hands to do things?" he muttered.

A few minutes later, he had discovered a little carrying case that looked about the right size for Catherine the Great. She gave him a rather suspicious look, but allowed herself to be coaxed inside with some deli turkey that Steve found in Coulson's fridge. He loaded the pockets of his jacket with cans of cat food and headed back to Avengers Tower.

He took the stairs up to the conference room where he knew he would find Pepper working with Natasha and Clint. They were gathered around a computer and talking quietly. "Find anything?" Natasha asked.

"Well, I know that Coulson certainly wasn't planning to leave," Steve said, and set down Catherine the Great's carrier on the table. He began emptying his pockets of cat food. "I don't think she's been fed. Where can I find a can opener in this place?"

"There's probably one in the break room," Pepper said. "I'll show you."

"I don't want to interrupt you – "

"No, no, I . . . I need a break anyway." Pepper forced a smile, stood, and smoothed out her skirt. Leaving Catherine the Great in her carrier, Steve followed her down the hall and to a small lounge that had more appliances than the average three bedroom home. Despite this, she was able to produce a regular, handheld can opener in relatively short order.

"Any luck so far?" Steve asked.

"Well, we definitely have leads to pursue," Pepper said, with a short laugh. "Tony, not exactly the most popular guy in the world."

Steve smiled at her. "Look, we'll find him," he said. "And he'll be okay. You know, he may not be my favorite guy in the world, but he's really resourceful, and maybe the bravest guy I know. So just hang in there."

Pepper managed another smile, this one a little more genuine. "Thanks, Steve."

* * *

"I hear you did not eat your lunch, Mr. Stark."

"Wow," Tony said, looking up at Ring Two with a smirk. "That is some A plus detective work there. I figured, with all the cameras and bugs and the guy watching me and everything, that it might take you a few days to figure it out. But no, you're right on top of things. No fooling you."

His captor arched an eyebrow, but as usual, he did not seem annoyed by Tony's attitude. "It would not do for you to become weak from hunger. What was it you requested, tomato?" He glanced over his shoulder and beckoned for one of the guards to came in. He carried a sandwich that was identical to the one from earlier that day, except that this time it quite obviously had a large slice of tomato on it.

Tony thought about pointing out that his problem with the sandwich hadn't been tomato. Then he realized that his captor knew that. The addition of the tomato was an insult, a mockery of his request, nothing more. He decided that he was sick of playing games. He looked up at the man and said, flatly, "I'm not going to eat that."

He half-expected Coulson to protest, to tell him that he shouldn't starve himself. But the agent in the other cell was silent.

Ring Two studied him for a moment, and then gave a nod. "Very well." He waved away the man with the sandwich and said something to him in a language that Tony didn't know. "You don't have a well-known habit of making it easy on yourself, I suppose – "

"Are you kidding? That's like the most well-known habit I have – "

"So we will not attempt to do things the easy way. An IV would be most appropriate, but you would undoubtedly just take it out and we would waste time that way. Rather, then . . ."

The door opened and the man came back, holding a plastic cup filled with some sort of brown sludge that Tony figured had to be some kind of protein milkshake. All the best nutrients, mixed into the least appetizing entrée ever. "I'm not going to drink that, either," he said.

"Yes, you are."

Tony was dragged to his feet and shoved into a metal folding chair. It took two men to hold his arms and another to keep his feet on the floor. Another pried open his jaws and pushed a tube into his mouth, then pinched his nose shut. Tony made it as difficult for them as he could, but regardless, when the disgusting drink made its way into his mouth, he swallowed involuntarily. It was that or choke. After a few moments, he stopped resisting. It was obviously pointless.

When the drink was gone, they released him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, "We're gonna have fun doing that every six hours, lemme tell you. Normally I'm better at sucking on tubes, if ya know what I'm saying, but something about yours just makes me want to bite it off."

"Charming," his captor said, and left the room without another word. His men roughly shoved Tony out of the folding chair and followed behind him, taking the chair with them.

"If Pepper had heard you say that," Coulson said, his voice shaking with laughter.

"What? Pepper knows all about my sordid past. I'd bring home anything that looked good, two legs and a hot ass is all I need – "

For a moment it seemed like Coulson might respond, but then the door to his cell opened and their captor came inside, with the same equipment that they had been using earlier that day. Tony watched in a combination of confusion and alarm as they got him strapped down.

"Hey, dumbasses, you forgot something," he shouted through the window. "I don't have my paper and pencil to draw magnificent designs for you."

Ring Two looked over at the window and said, "You mistake our aim, Mr. Stark. At the moment we seek intelligence on SHIELD, nothing more. We wouldn't want to overburden you and cause you to make a mistake. Why is it, did you think, that we chose a SHIELD agent for your incentive, rather than one of your more vulnerable friends?"

"Yeah, sure, that makes perfect sense," Tony said, still speaking loudly to make sure he was heard, "except for the part that if you're going to torture him anyway, I don't have any God damned reason to help you."

Their captor shrugged, indifferent. "It's all a matter of degree, Mr. Stark."

"No," Tony said, "it's a matter of 'I'm not going to design a fucking thing for you'."

"And here I thought you didn't even like our fine agent," the man said. "Isn't that what you told me?" He didn't wait to hear Tony's answer, but instead turned to his subordinate and said, "Begin."

The questions they asked Coulson were academically interesting. Some were basic: where is SHIELD headquarters located, what kind of guard shifts do they have, who is in charge there? Then others were strangely specific: is SHIELD running an operation about diamond smuggling in South Africa? Does the helicarrier have titanium siding or just plain steel? Still others implied that they had inside information: how was Clint Barton cured of Loki's hypnosis? What sort of gamma ray detector was used to find the Cube?

It was all fascinating in a detached sort of way. Tony was sure that he could have deduced something useful from the different questions, not that it did him any good while in their prison. They didn't get any answers, either. Coulson continued to recite from the Constitution, all the way through the amendments, and when he finished that he moved on to the Declaration of Independence, and then the Gettysburg address. He was halfway through that when he abruptly passed out.

Everything was quiet for a minute while they checked Coulson's vitals, determined that he had probably used some sort of mental trick to force himself to pass out before he could talk, and unstrapped him from the machine. Ring Two came back into Tony's cell. Tony said nothing, but glared at him wordlessly.

"From now on," their captor said, "the sessions will be held in tandem. It will be interesting to see who breaks first, will it not?"

Tony looked at him for a long time. Then he said, "I'm not going to give you anything if you hurt him again."

"That's a pity," Ring Two said. "If Agent Coulson proves to be insufficient incentive, we'll have to move on to bigger fish. Your Miss Potts may garner a better reaction."

Tony forced himself to laugh. "Oh, sure, okay. She only lives in a high-security tower surrounded by actual superheroes. How do you plan to get a hold of her?"

"We got a hold of you, didn't we?" he said, smiling. "It will take time, of course, observation, planning . . . such things always do. So perhaps, if you cooperate in a timely fashion, we won't even need to bring her to our humble abode. But make no mistake, Mr. Stark, if we have to, we will. The only reason we didn't do that to begin with is because we disliked the idea of drawing so much attention to ourselves. Tony Stark wandering off . . . not unusual. A low-level agent from SHIELD goes astray . . . not national news. But the CEO of Stark Industries, that's another matter."

"Well, fuck, now I'm gonna make you do it just to piss you off," Tony said.

"If you like," the man said. "But you may want to reconsider. The men of the Second Ring undergo rigorous training. They are isolated for long periods of time. Indeed, many of the men who captured you, it was the first time they had left this base in years. I don't know if they could . . . control themselves . . . when faced with such a lovely woman."

Tony felt his jaw twitch. "You really know how to get on my good side, you know that? This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"As they say, Mr. Stark . . . keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

Ring Two turned and left the room. Tony stared at the door after him. "You know," he muttered to himself, "that sounds like a _fantastic_ idea."


End file.
